Silenced
by Boneheart
Summary: In this story Mute isn't able to speak and was originally called Jammer. This is how he became Mute. Warnings for torture and r*pe.I do not own any of the characters in Rainbow Six Siege


Mark R. Chander, aka Jammer, had just joined team Rainbow and was desperate to prove himself. He was 23 years old. A mere child in their eyes, despite having 3 years of experience in the S.A.S.

He'd already had a few successful missions during his short time with Team Rainbow and was getting pretty cocky. He had been doing so well that he was given a solo mission. He was pumped and ready to prove that he belonged here just as much as the rest of Team Rainbow.

It should've been a simple mission, go undercover and find out where the White Masks were headed next. But on his third day he'd been exposed. So now here he was, trapped with no escape. Unsure if his team would know he's in danger before it was too late.

He was strung up to a chair, his bindings just a bit too tight to be comfortable. The room he found himself in was big, and for the most part, empty aside from the chair infront of him and a table about 15 feet to his left. The only light source in the cold room was a lamp on said table, other than that he couldn't see too well.

He found himself getting anxious. Where was he? Where did they take him? Are they watching him? That last thought made him squirm. He didn't like being watched, it made him feel like prey.

Suddenly he was squinting, everything was so bright. He couldn't see at all. The source appeared to be a construction light no more than 5 feet in front of him. He could just barely make out what appeared to be three men behind it.

The group sat in silence while Mark's eyes adjusted. He was now able to make out some hooks on the ceiling and some peculiar rust colored stains on the ground. He had a feeling he knew what it was.

The tallest of the men stepped forward, closing the distance between them while the other two men moved out of Mark's line of sight. The man, most likely the one in charge, wore a white mask, jeans, and a green hoodie. Typical White Mask attire.

He made Mark look so small in comparison, his well built, muscled frame only adding to the physical differences between the two. Mark found himself shrinking into his seat. The man was so big, towering over him like a giant.

"Mark R. Chander, huh? Did you really think you could wander into _my_ territory without getting caught?"

The tied man stared at the White Mask defiantly, cold fury in his eyes. How did they know who he was? What else did they know? Either way he'd remain silent, no matter what they did to him. He had already fucked up by getting caught, he wouldn't give away valuable information on top of that.

The man grabbed Marks chin in a bruising grip "The silent treatment, huh? That's fine, the bratty ones are always more fun to crack."

He didn't like the sound of that. The terrorist made it sound almost perverted. Mark didn't have much time to think about it before the terrorist continued.

"Do you know what kind of situation you're in, kid? Do you know what we do to spies?"

Mark did know, he was warned about it when he accepted the job. Being captured meant death, regardless of whether he gave out valuable information or not. He willed himself not to think about it, he really wasn't ready to die.

"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you."

His cheek stung with the impact of a slap. When had ge looked away?

"You know your own team sold you out, right?"

"That's a lie!" Mark blurted out without thinking

The White Mask crossed his arms.

"Oh, is it? Then why was someone as inexperienced as you sent out alone on a job like this?"

Mark refused to believe him, there's no way his own team would do that. Sure, he didn't get along with a lot of the operatives at Rainbow, but that doesn't mean they'd send him to die. Even so, a seed of doubt had been planted. What if they really did rat him out? Who would rescue him then?

When Mark stayed silent the White Mask continued,

"You wanna know why _I_ think they did it?" he sneered, " I think that they got tired of having a cocky little hotshot like you around and decided it was best to get rid of you. Does that sound right?"

Mark wasn't just going to take that without making some kind of jab, as wounded as his pride was.

"Sounds more like your hogwash organization couldn't even catch a rookie without outside help."

"Hogwash or not, your ass was still sold out."

Mark rolled his eyes, doing his best to appear unafraid.

"So what do you want from me?"

"You have nothing of value to us" the man chuckled," You're a throw away. A nobody."

Mark felt his fists tightening at that, his jaw clenching as the man continued.

"However, you've destroyed a lot of our equipment with those Jammers of yours. Valuable equipment. For that I think punishment is necessary."

The man walked away, grabbing what appeared to be a folder off the table. Mark watched his every movement, daring him to try something.

After a few grueling minutes of silence, the man finally spoke, calm as ever.

"I know everything about you, Mark." The man stepped forward

" I know the hell you were put through" Another step

Mark felt hus heart beat faster, he didn't like where this was going.

"I know how hard you tried to smile. How hard you tried to pretend that everything was alright." They were mere inches from eachother now

Mark's eyes betrayed the fear he felt

"But worst of all," his masked face was right by Mark's ear as he whispered," I know what your father did to you."

Mark's eyes widened and he tried to bite the man before him, causing him to reel back with laughter. No one could know that, he never told _anyone_. Unless...was he really able to get a hold of the police reports that easily?

"Are you ok kid? You're looking a little upset now." The terrorist chuckled," Didn't hit a sore spot, did I?"

"Fuck you, you gaping twat" he bit out, trying not to go back to that dark place

The White Mask gripped Mark's hair in his fingers, forcing him to look up at him.

"Fuck me?" The man paused, thinking," No, I think it'll be the other way around."

An emotion began to cloud the man's slitted brown eyes, one Mark was all too familiar with. It sent a shiver up his spine. He didn't even notice he was biting his lip with growing anxiety.

The man let go of his hair, caressing his face instead,

"Don't worry kid, we'll save that for tomorrow. I'll just leave you to think about it for tonight."

With that, the man left, turning the lights out as he went. Mark was left to sit in the darkness with a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't stop the tears that clouded his eyes or the sniffle he let out as childhood memories flooded his mind. Knowing he was in a similar situation with no escape only made him cry harder as the night went on.

The next day Mark woke with a high pitched squeal. They were pouring ice water on his already freezing body. He wasn't even sure when he had fallen asleep, but he regretted it now. He licked his lips, trying to get any moisture he could into his dry mouth. Last nights cry session had taken a toll and now he found himself more thirsty than ever.

He was angry about the water that was dumped on him, water he couldn't get to tied up like this. But he didn't have time to think about it as they dumped another bucket of ice water on him. Mark managed to catch some in his mouth as the cold really began to set in and he shivered, his lips trembling.

"Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?" The man spoke, clearly amused," If you're thirsty. Just beg and I'll have my friends grab another bucket."

Mark was thirsty, really thirsty, but he wasn't about to beg. Not for this man, not for anyone.

"You're awfully cute like that, I understand what your father saw in you." The man jabbed

"You're sick." Mark hissed

The man bent foward, tracing his fingers down Mark's neck.

"I'm also your new God as long as you're here, so you better watch your mouth."

Mark began to struggle against his binds, that's exactly what his father would call himself. He was trying hard not to panick, but he couldn't do this. Not again. How was he supposed to remain calm when his nightmares were crawling back into the waking world right before his eyes?

The man stepped back, watching Mark with barely contained excitement as he tried tp compose himself.

"So here's what's gonna happen, kitten." Mark cringed at the name while the man spoke,

" I'm gonna get some stress relief at your expensive. And you..." The man began rubbing his bulge through his jeans,

" You're gonna beg and cry like the bitch we both know you are."

The man snapped his fingers and suddenly his two goons untied him, tossing him out of the chair and on to the ground.

" Of course it won't be nearly as much fun without a fight. So go ahead, attack me, it'll end the same either way."

Mark looked around, two White Masks were guarded his only escape route, the door. There was no way he could beat this man in a physical fight, but he couldn't just accept defeat. Mark steeled his nerves, he had to try.

Mark lunged at his opponent, his fist smashing into the mans face.

The terrorist snarled and pivoted to the side, successfully blocking the next blow.

It went on like that for awhile. Mark would hit and the man would block.

Suddenly the man reared his fist back and dealt a bone-crushing blow to Mark's face.

His ears were ringing and he felt dizzy.

He could taste blood in his mouth.

Mark felt himself crashing to the ground as the terrorist dealt another blow.

Mark tried to get up, but he was still recovering, he felt nauseous. He was sure he'd puke if the room didn't stop spinning soon.

The White Mask picked him up by the collar of his shirt and he could faintly hear fabric tearing over the ringing in his ears. He weakly clawed at the mans arms as he was carried to the table and bent over it. The cool wood would've felt nice on his cheek if it weren't for his current predicament.

Mark went into a full blown panick when he heard the all too family sound of a zipper. He felt himself being held down and screamed as huge, filthy palms ripped at his clothes. Stealing any dignity he had left. Something hard and warm rubbed against his arse cheeks and he wailed,

"Just kill me, please just kill me. I can't do this, not again!"

"Shhh," the mans tone was mocking," What're you so afraid of? Look at you, you've gone and pissed yourself like a child!"

The bastard was right, Mark had pissed himself with fear, but he didn't care. He didn't want to be here. If it was a choice between this and death, he'd choose death.

Mark tried to stifle his sobs as the man continued to touch him. He felt the man squeeze his penis and broke down again, his whole body shaking in fear.

"Not even a little hard?" He laughed with a slap to Mark's ass

"P-please stop..." Mark whispered, tears running down his face.

Any cocky remarks he had vanished as soon as he realized we're this was going. He was nude and completely at this sick mans mercy, it terrified him to his wits' end.

He couldn't breath, his childhood memories were clashing with the present. Both fighting for his attention span, only making his nausea build. He howled when the mans fingers pried him open. Moving in and out, stretching him. He couldn't help himself, he started shaking and sobbed even harder. Clawing at anything he could. When the sensations overloaded him, he threw up.

The monster behind him yelled in anger,

"Now that's just disgusting!"

"I'm s-sorry" Mark cried," I didn't m-mean to"

He didn't even know why he was apologizing, he just wanted everything to stop.

The man roughly yanked his fingers out of Mark, replacing them with something much bigger.

"No, no!" Mark screeched helplessly as the man bore into him.

His rapist started mocking him,

"No, please stop" he said with heavy sarcasm," I told you that you'd fucking beg."

Mark only bawled in response as the man continued to thrust in and out of him.

He continued to beg the man to stop and when that didn't work he started begging them to kill him instead.

"When I'm done." Was the man's only response.

Suddenly pain shot through Mark's neck, the man was biting him. Hard. His screaming renewed with new vigor as his skin broke and blood trailed down his neck. He just barely heard the man moaning by his ear.

The monster pulled out of him and Mark dropped to the ground. His crying and whimpering much more quiet compared to his previous screams and sobs. He was a bloody, red faced mess, his snot mixing with his tears as he attempted to curl in on himself. He felt the man spit on him.

"Filthy whore."

Mark only curled in on himself more in response.

The rapist huffed in anger, clearly not wanting to be ignored. Mark felt hands grabbing at him and he began screaming and attempting to crawl away. He felt rope his skin burning as rope dug into his arms. He'd been tied to the chair again.

The man was looking at him again, analyzing. Would he finally kill him?

After a few long minutes of silence, aside from Mark's anguished cries, the man put a switch blade to his throat and spoke.

"You're pretty vocal for someone is likes to silence communications, let's change that."

For a moment, Mark was visibly confused. What did his jammers have to do with anything?

Then the man started to force his jaw open and he understood. He weakly tried to fight it, to bite down, anything. But his energy was spent and the man pried his jaw open with ease. He gave one clear scream before he felt his tongue get slowly, and painfully, lacerated and blood pooled his mouth. His screaming turned into mangled cries of anguish. Mark felt himself choking on his own blood no matter how fast he kept spitting it out as his tormentor stepped back to admire his work.

"You'll bleed out soon. I'm done with you."

Just as the man was walking away, Mark heard gunfire and saw orange smoke near the entrance. His team was here to his dismay. He hoped he'd bleed out before they got to him, he didn't want to be alive for them to see him like this.

His vision started going blurry as he felt himself being untied. Someone was shouting for medical help, but he couldn't tell who. His vision went dark. His last thought before he passed out was that his team hadn't betrayed him.

It had been almost a year since the incident and his self-esteem had hit an all time low, he still felt humilated. He couldn't trust anyone as much as he tried. No one knew exactly what he'd been through, aside from his team and Doc, but they did know he'd lost his tongue.

He'd been heavily ridiculed for his failed mission by some of the more mean members of Team Rainbow. All the respect he'd gained was gone. All because he was reckless, and they'd never let him forget that. He wasn't even sure his team liked him anymore. As far as he could tell they took pity on him and he resented that. He resented everything.

Mute, that's what they called him. He doesn't know who came up with it, but he'd kill them if he could. He did everything in solitude, refusing to social unless he had to, not like he could communicate anyways. Only handful of the operators had learned sign language on his behalf. The rest just didn't bother with him, he assumed out of hate.

Smoke still tried to communicate with him, but Mark would refuse. He just wanted to be left alone. He didn't need anyone, not anymore...


End file.
